Twice Dead
by modernmotz
Summary: Rahel thought it was hard enough to lose him once. Twice and it feels like she's falling apart. But Zevran is there to pick up the pieces.  Supposed to be angsty, but not really. Implied sexual content. fem!Mahariel/Tamlen fem!Mahariel/Zevran


**Twice Dead**

Pairing: fem!Mahariel/Tamlen & fem!Mahariel/Zevran

Word Count: 7,810

Warnings: (supposed) angst, implied sexing, but nothing graphic

They celebrated that night in camp. Not out of victory, but relief. The mess at Redcliff, so closely followed by the pilgrimage for the Urn of Sacred Ashes…it was quite a bit to take in. Especially with no rest in between. But, regardless, they had completed the impossible; they had found the 'sacred' relic.

And what a crusade it had been. Rahel, the barbaric Dalish blasphemer. Alistair, royal bastard and ex-templar. Sten, Qunari, which is to say, barbaric in its own right. And Zevran, assassin, son of a whore, and quite the whore himself. Needless to say, the four of them were quite surprised when the Guardian let them into the Gauntlet. Not to even mention how surprised they are when they made it through (with a little help from Alistair's wealth of Chantry knowledge).

It hadn't been easy. The realistic vision of Tamlen had been…hard to deal with. The death of the man she had once planned to Bond with was something Rahel had never come to terms with. It was a tragedy to mourn once her duty as a Grey Warden was exhausted. And then, seeing him there, so real, so full of life. Even though she knew it was a false vision, just another test to protect the Urn, it wrenched painfully. It hurt like a knife being twisted cruelly in between her ribs.

Alas, she, the blasphemer, had gazed upon the Moste Holy Of All Ancient Relicks…not that it was that exciting, really. Very anti-climatic. She was tempted to take Kolgrim up on his offer to taint the ashes, but Alistair was glaring at her so hard she thought her hair might catch flames.

But, whether or not they really were the ashes of the bride of the Maker, they had magic. Unbelievable magic. To bring a man, an _old_ man, back from the brink of death was astounding. Within an hour of their return, the Arl was awake and after thirty minutes he was on his feet, spry and able. After a night spent at the castle, they were on their way to Orzammar to seek council from the Dwarven king. Their last Grey Warden treaty. It felt like they were at the end of an impossibly long race.

Celebration was inevitable.

Their fire was larger than ever before; a bonfire rather than a campfire. They all huddled around it, even Morrigan, which was a miracle in its own right. Leliana sang, and taught them exotic Orlesian dances. Zevran regaled them with the tales of tavern brawls and other exciting exploits. Alistair fumbled with both the dancing and the stories, to both the rogues' amusement. Wynn shared some of her own stories, from her days as a surprisingly wild apprentice. Alistair had quite the spastic attack, and Zevran looked on the older woman with a new level of respect.

Rahel, of course, sat to the side with Sten, opting out of the so called 'revelry'. She and the Qunari exchanged a few words, musing on the frivolities of their companions. The giant seemed to find the dances ridiculous, and laughed at them more than the stories told. Rahel did get up to dance with Zevran once, but after almost breaking his toes with feet more suited to navigating the battle field, he relinquished hold on her to return to Sten's side. She blew him a kiss, before turning back to the Qunari to discuss the merits of cavalry in warfare, as opposed to a strict infantry.

Rahel had found a close friend in Sten. He was a fellow warrior, and someone who understood the vows of honor she had taken. Not only that, but he was rooted in his community, something she could definitely relate to. He wasn't loud, and he was wise, as well as stoic. Truly, if not for the dramatic height difference, they could easily be mistaken for siblings. Their personalities were scarily alike. And Sten opened up to no one but her.

Which was rather ironic, given that Rahel always assumed the Dalish were the most standoffish of all races. Of course, she had become comfortable with the shemlen, joking with Alistair and discussing Elven history with Leliana. Morrigan was definitely acceptable company, because they could always mock the Chantry and its followers. Not to be mistaken, Rahel would always prefer the company of elves. Even flat-ears were better than shems. But seeing how the only other elf in question was Zevran (and he was good for sex but not much else), she found herself not really minding the company of the humans. Sten would always be her favorite companion, however. Had he not been born Qunari, he would have been born Dalish.

When all of the food had been eaten (three does, five rabbits, and eight river fish), and the fire had burned down to coals, everyone began settling down. After a quickie with Zevran in his tent, Rahel slept outside, as per usual, lying down across the low fire from Alistair. She stared straight up at the stars until sleep pulled her eyelids down. Despite all odds, she found herself more content than she'd been since Tamlen's death.

She wanted it to stop staring. She felt bare before its gaze, as weak and shaky as a newborn halla. It didn't laugh, but she could sense its elation, its amusement at the pesky flies who could never pose a real threat to its dominion…

An ear-piercing shriek ran through the clearing, shaking Rahel from her horrifying dream. The elf jumped up, first to her knees, then to her feet, Falcon'Din's Reach in her grip. Across the fire, Alistair stumbled a bit, legs tangled in his blanket. When he righted himself, he had his sword in his grip. "What's going on?" he cried out, but she could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears the shrieking had caused. "Ready yourself!" she simply cried out in answer, pulling an arrow from her nearby quiver to the string of her bow.

Her trained eye quickly found it: A movement, in the night-shadows. She slowly drew the string and the arrow back, and let it fly. It struck something, earning her another blood-curdling screech. As soon as she hit it, she bent down to ready herself as much as possible. Not even bothering to put on armor, she grabbed her knife belt and quickly looped it on over her night-shirt. As soon as it was fastened, she whipped around and let loose another arrow.

The night sky lit up as Morrigan or Wynn cast a spell. The flaming darkspawn lit up the darkness, casting light on targets for her searching arrows. She heard Sten's war cry break through the piercing cries of the darkspawn, and felt the hiss of Leliana's arrows, a friendly counterpart to her own. One of the darkspawn broke off from the rest of the group to lunge at her, but she lodged an arrow in its neck, neatly cutting off its air supply.

It collapsed, spraying her with its burning, black blood. Swearing heavily in Elven, she spat and dragged the sleeve of her shirt across her face, clearing her vision. The next moment, Zevran appeared next to her, seemingly out of nowhere. He offered her a dashing grin, before flitting off somewhere else. She rolled her eyes at his antics, and shot a number of more arrows into the night.

Finally, after what couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, the campsite seemed to be cleared out. As they scattered to begin and hurried packing, Alistair called out, in a confused voice "Wait, there is….one more. It's not attacking…" Rahel looked up, and sure enough, there was a shadowy figure, hunched over, standing perfectly still. "I'll get it," she called out, and the other's resumed their packing, trusting her to be able to take out a single darkspawn on her own. Slowly, she drew the bow once more, and crept slowly forward.

Closer, and closer, until…she stopped abruptly when she realized it was saying something, in tiny whispers. They were broken whispers, impossibly quiet, imperceptible, really. Slowly, she lowered the bow, and crept ever closer. Five, six more steps and she found herself close enough to hear. It was hard to hear, but it seemed to be one word repeated, over and over again. Before she could get close enough, the creature looked up and met her eyes. "Lethallan," the voice spoke. A voice she hadn't heard for months. A voice she had thought dead. "Lethallan." At the broken tone of the voice she knew so well, she lurched forward, holding back a choked sob, but the ghoul evaded her grip turning to sprint away, its tortured screams on the wind. "No, lethallan! Don't look at me!"

It was worse when he screamed. His voice…so broken, so empty.

"Tamlen!" Her voice was practically a scream, hysterical. "Rahel, what's-" She cut Alistair's worried voice off. "Don't follow me!" And then she was running, feet pounding hard on the soft earth. "Tamlen!" she cried again, her voice hysterical, but he didn't answer, running blindly ahead. His frantic sprint was barely a memory of the long, loping gait he once possessed. She'd always been jealous of his grace, something she could never copy. And with his awkward run, she caught up swiftly. Memories of playing chase in the warm forest during the summer cruelly flooded her mind. She wanted to sob at the twisted irony.

It wasn't long before she overtook him, and practically tackled him to the ground. She righted them before they could actually fall, and slowly backed away. He visibly shook, like a cornered animal. Even his eyes rolled, looking around for a means of escape. His eyes…they weren't the calm, blue-grey she remembered. Instead, they were a piercing yellow, monster eyes, slit like a cats. They were the eyes she had terrible nightmares about.

Using sheer force of will, she allowed no tears to fall. Tamlen looked almost nothing like what she once knew. His hair had fallen out completely and his flesh had turned a corrupt black-red. And his eyes. If she lived forever, she would never get over his eyes…

And poisonous 'what if' thoughts began to seep into her mind. If nothing had happened, they would've been bonded. She would've been with child, and he would've been hunting for their clan and her child. They would curl up under the ancient trees, like old times, and count the stars.

"Lethallan…Rahel…"

It wasn't even his voice anymore.

The words came spilling out. She refused to acknowledge the pain and absolute emotion in the whimpers. "Tamlen," she spoke, soft as possible. "Oh, Tamlen. By the Creators, you're here. I thought you were gone." She raised one of her hands, and it trembled as it cupped his sunken cheek. And then her other hand cupped his other cheek. Shaking almost as much, he brought up his hands to gently clasp her wrists. They stood in silence, as tremulous as a dragonfly's wing. His eyes darted wildly, as if trying to take as many details in as once and his fingers just barely stroked her wrists.

Without warning, he spoke again, his voice just a little firmer. "It sings to us." It was still just above a whisper, but it seemed…more familiar. "What sings to you?" she whispered, her voice shakier than it had ever been. "Our Master. It sings to us, our Master. The song is beautiful, but-" he cut off abruptly, shuddered suddenly. "What? What is wrong?" Her voice was louder, panicky. He shook his head, almost dislodging her hands, but she stilled the movement quickly. "Shhhh, tell me."

He shuddered again, and brought a scaly hand to stroke her cheek. "His song is beautiful, but it tells us to kill you. I c-c-couldn't. I c-can't. Don't make me, Master, don't make me!" His voice rose in pitch, back to the broken screech from before. "Stop, Tamlen, stop! No one is making you do anything!" As soon as she spoke, he fell silent again, still shaking softly. "I didn't, I can't," he murmured after a short silence.

"When I was running, feeding, hiding, hunting…" he trailed off, but she didn't push him, just lightly stroking his cheek. His eyes stilled on hers, and they simply looked at each other for a long moment. "When I was being, I thought of you. I thought of you running, in the woods. So lovely, so strong. Like the Elven warriors of Arthlathan. I thought of you singing. Your singing drowned out the Master's. Your singing kept me sane. I had to stay sane, I had to tell you-" he broke off again, shudders wracking his thin body. She stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around his body, trying as hard as possible to keep him still. They subsided eventually, and he relaxed into her grip.

"I had to tell you. Love. I l-love you, lethallan. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I-" he broke of suddenly, again, and wrenched himself from her grip. Slowly, he backed away, and a choked sob escaped Rahel's throat. He continued to back away, and she found herself whispering "Tamlen. Tamlen, I love you. I love you so much. I miss you." He flinched as if struck, and clawed at his face. "Love!" he screeched, throat raw from use. "I don't deserve you! Master wills it! I-I- NO! No, I will NOT!" He thrashed around, clawing at his skin and face. Rahel tried to stop him, at least hold him still, but he pushed her off, only becoming more frantic.

Suddenly, he stilled, meeting her eyes with his tormented monster ones. "Lethallan, Rahel, please!" She flinched. "Please what?" she asked, desperate. "Please what? What do you need? Tell me!"

"Kill me! Rahel please! End it! Set me free!"

She wheeled back, as if struck. "W-w-what?" she whispered, choking back another sob. "N-no. I can't! We have to cure you! I have to cure you!" His eyes widened impossibly and his mouth opened wide. "No!" And then he lunged at her. By instinctual reflex, she dodged his wild attack, but he lunged again, knocking her to the ground. As soon as they hit the earth, she wrapped her arms tightly around his emaciated body. The insidious scent of bile and rotting flesh invaded her nose, and he held on as tight as possible, feeling his bones against paper thin skin.

"Tamlen, no! I won't kill you! I have to save you!" But he was lost. He thrashed viciously against her iron grip, his mindless shrieking splitting the night's silence. They wrestled, his oily Dalish armor digging into her skin. His clawed hands reached for her throat, but she rolled them over, pinning his hands. He bucked underneath her, thrashing his legs, and baring his teeth. He caught a weak spot in her hold, and flipped them over, pinning her and wrapping his hands around her unprotected throat. As he slowly squeezed, she stopped fighting completely, staring into those empty, soulless eyes. This wasn't Tamlen. It was just another darkspawn.

Without warning, his body fell limp, his hands curling on either side of her neck. Warm, burning blood dripped from the arrow puncture in his throat onto her face. She gasped softly, and looked up. Not twenty feet away stood Leliana, holding up her bow. She looked back up at Tamlen. Her arrow had struck his throat. Before the Orlesian rogue could even move to help, Rahel and pushed his body up and pulled the frail body into her arms.

"Go," she croaked, staring at the animal face, still bared in an animal snarl.

When the ex-bard did nothing, she looked up and practically screamed "Go!" The other girl flinched, but did as told, turning to return to what must've been the packed up camp. She was left alone with the corpse of her closest friend, her lover. Slowly, she brought her hand up and shut his eyes, and smoothed his expression until he looked like he was dreaming.

"Tamlen…" she whispered, and without warning, all the tears she had held back were falling. They were uncontrollable, dripping onto the tortured flesh below. Her vision blurred, and she squinted experimentally. She could imagine she was holding old Tamlen. The real Tamlen; blonde, blue-eyed, graceful Tamlen. Healthy and whole. But as soon as she dared to wipe her eyes, the macabre vision was back. Tamlen corrupted and bloody, laying in her arms.

As immature as it was, she found herself speaking in a tiny voice. A small, hopeful, childish voice. "Don't go, Tamlen. Arash l'aven. Tamlen, don't leave me alone here! This world is too cruel for me to exist without you. Arash l'aven, we belong together." The words fell from her lips, weak and broken. They were whispered with no rhythm or meaning. Pointless words. Words that would do nothing to bring him back.

For hours or minutes, it might as well have been months, she held his body. Tears streamed down her face until they dried up. Even when her face dried completely, and an empty numbness had encompassed her completely, she held the limp body. It wasn't until Zevran approached that she even bothered to look up. His voice was somber. "I think he deserves a proper burial, no? He was obviously quite important."

Rahel quietly stared at the elf she had welcomed into her bed. His face betrayed genuine concern, which caught her off-guard. Concern stemmed from one person caring for another. To some extent, she hadn't thought the assassin capable of caring for another…much less, come to care for her. She was a broken woman.

She pushed such thoughts from her mind, and slowly nodded. With a deep breath, she gently placed the emaciated body in her lap on the soft grass, before standing shakily. Without a word, she grabbed a sturdy branch that lay not far, tested its sturdiness, and slammed it into the ground. The earth loosened at the forceful movement. Not pausing for a moment, she slammed it in again, and then again. After not more than a minute of the primitive digging, she felt a warm, calloused hand on her shoulder. Stopping hesitantly, she turned and looked at Zevran. He held a strong plank of wood in his elegant hands, but her eyes were drawn to his face. His wide, brown eyes, the firm set of his mouth.

With a light shrug, she went back to her labor. The other elf joined in, and twin thuds could be heard, one right after another. When the ravaged dirt started to resemble something kind of like a hole, Alistair approached, face blank of any emotion. Before he could even offer his help, Rahel shook her head quickly. "He…Tamlen hated shemlen…humans. The idea of a shem digging his grave…" she trailed off, shook her head once more, and returned to her digging, silent once more. Zevran offered a slight shrug, before he resumed the work as well. Alistair stared on at the pointless labor, confused, but soon walked away.

They kept digging and digging. Blisters formed on Rahel's already calloused fingers, and popped. Sweat slid into her eyes, and drenched her sleep-dress and breast band. Zevran soon removed his damp, blood-splattered shirt, but Rahel didn't even consider stripping. She had become a single-minded entity. Dig, slam, fling, breathe, and grunt. She could comprehend nothing else. Better yet, she refused to comprehend anything else. The blisters, the splinters, the sweat, the _labor_ kept her from having to remember. Lest she be driven insane by guilt.

As the stars faded, and the bare vestiges of dawn shimmered on the horizon, the hole was breast-deep. They were finished. Zevran was panting from effort, and he absently wiped sweat from his brow. Rahel didn't show that she was affected in any way, excepting the sweat, blood, and tears. They crawled from the crude hole, and tossed away their tools. Rahel walked over to the body of her friend, her lethallan. The tears threatened to fall again, but she bent down to pick up the corpse. It was light enough for her to carry bridal style herself, and the Antivan didn't even have to bother trying to help.

With her arash l'aven in tow, she crawled back into hole. Carefully, she set him down and gently arranged his limbs. When she pulled away, he looked as if he was simply sleeping.

Though nothing could erase his horrific appearance, he looked at peace. She pulled herself out for the last time. With Zevran's help, she piled dirt in. When it was firmly packed in, she turned to her lover. "I will stand vigil." The other blinked, and frowned. "But-"

"Alone."

Something in her look made him fall silent, and he quickly walked back to the others, who were probably eager for news. When she knew he was alone, and all she could hear were birds and the soft rustling of the heather at the edge of their campsite, she fell to her knees on top of his grave. With a voice she didn't even recognize, she spoke the first verse of her tribe's funeral dirge.

"_Star child, calm, be as wind_

_Hunt in the skies, set with the sun._

_Halla child, graceful, be as water_

_Run through the forests of yore._

_Mountain child, noble, be as earth_

_Be as the land for roots to spring._

_Elf child, wild, be as fire_

_And let your memory never fade."_

It had been spoken in his memory once before. His funeral before Duncan had taken her from her clan. The elves' voices had risen and fallen, one being, one chorus. Her one voice sounded weak, and immature, in comparison. Even though it wasn't enough, it was all she had to offer.

In the absence of her voice, the silence was oppressive. Without any thought, she reached around her neck and tugged on a leather string. A tiny leather pouch was pulled from her cleavage, and she slowly opened it. From within it, she pulled a seed. Something so tiny, so miniscule, with so much potential. Gently, she scraped away a small clump of dirt with just the tips of her fingers. When the miniature hole was just deep enough for the seed to grow healthy, she placed it in, and slowly covered it.

The seed would one day grow into a birch. The stately, white, halla horn tree. It represented innocence, youth, and fertility. It was also Tamlen's favorite tree. While she preferred the elegant aspen, the birch had always been _his _tree. It was only fitting that he would grow into something he loved so dearly.

When everything had been settled, she rested back on her haunches. After a moment longer, she stood, and stepped off the earth mound. The morning sun cast its golden gaze on the grave, and Rahel wanted to think that it was Tamlen himself. She wanted to think he had already moved on, and sat with the Creators, feasting, and dancing. A free creature, a free elf. He was always the libertarian, it was only right that he died still fighting.

Another long, silent moment passed, before she opened her mouth and sang.

She had a rudimentary knowledge of the Elven language. Every Dalish child was taught the basics, but she had always preferred weapons to lore. Even with her stilted knowledge, the words flowed, following a melody that came and went. She sang of their childhood, two orphans, family in everything but blood. Oh, how that had changed. She sang of their first hunt, and she sang of the cruel alpha wolf they had slain together. Such a proud beast. They buried him, and honored him in Andruil's name. She sang of the night they received their Vallaslin. She cried, not from the pain, but from the bond with the Creators. Tamlen held her hand tight, fighting back his own tears.

She sang of their first kiss, under a waterfall. The fireflies' light reflected off of the clear water, and the moonlight played off of his skin. She sang of their first time, in a clearing not far from the clan. They moved in perfect harmony as the crickets and owls watched. She sang of how beautiful he was, and how they held each other like there was nothing else.

And that day. She sang of the first time she lost him. Of the pain she had felt then, as her voice melded in with the clans' in the funeral dirge. And the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Her voice rose into something akin to a wail, and she poured all of her grief into it. Had she only looked harder. Had she only disregarded the shemlen's words. She would have found them. They would have been Grey Wardens together…

Her voice quieted, and she softly sang of how she remembered him. The grace with which he hunted, his sinewy limbs moving in perfect form. His run, like that of a big panther, long and rolling. He was infuriating, and they argued like the sun and the moon. And for all of his imperfections, he was the most perfect creature she'd ever known. The last words of her song fell from her lips, homage to how much she loved him, how much she adored him. When the clearing was silent once more, it was noon, and the sun baked down on the back of her neck.

She spoke once more. "Arash l'aven, dareth shiral." The whisper was silent, her voice broken from hours of singing, without break. She stilled completely for a moment, tense as a pulled bow, and turned away.

None of the other adventurers were foolish enough to ask about that night. Or even talk about it when she might overhear. They considered it plenty, of course. It was extremely out of place to see anything affect their fearless, silent, emotionless leader. And she had been an emotional wreck.

Leliana mused on the elf's singing voice. It had been truly quite enchanting…something that found the Orlesian bard a little jealous. But, she assumed that would be the first and last time she would ever hear the Dalish woman sing. And that was an absolute shame.

Sten considered the strange emotional state she had been in. He naturally gravitated towards her, because of her natural leadership, and staunch sense of honor. The Dalish clans and Qunari were similar in many ways. To see her fall apart was…disturbing. He had no idea of how to comfort her; the Qunari knew no such things. But, in the following days, his fears were put to rest. She continued on as she had before the incident, a silent killer in battle.

Morrigan found the whole thing morbidly amusing. Alistair found the whole thing tragically sad.

Zevran lay awake in the following nights, holding Rahel's bare body close to his, their bodies chilled from the sweat of their lovemaking. He wondered who this Tamlen was, and why she cried out his name while she slept, shaking and crying. When he'd wake her, she'd cling to him, shivering, whispering broken sentences in Elven. One night, however, she slipped, and her murmurings were Common. He leaned in close as she apologized over and over again to a person she never named.

It was scary. He'd only ever seen her as strong, unyielding. Yes, he'd held her close during and after her Grey Warden nightmares, but these were…different. More personal. Whilst Alistair also suffered the call of the Archdemon, no one shared these dreams. No one was there to suffer with her. Not to mention the fact that he was seeing her differently. Not just a bed-partner. The acts they performed each night weren't just sex. They were something more.

_That_ scared him more than anything else.

And the longer she seemed to recover from that awful night, the more it seemed she felt the same. She opened up more, sometimes acting playful, and occasionally opening up about her life in the Dalish clans. She seemed genuinely interested to know of his Dalish heritage, and they spoke more than ever before.

At any rate, no one brought it up past their own personal musings. And even though the words never fell from her lips, Rahel appreciated it. In fact, it wasn't until well after Orzammar and the last of the treaties that the subject was breached. Sten and Morrigan had just broken the elf and Alistair from Fort Drakon's dungeons, much to her chagrin.

"I'm sorry," she murmured lightly once they'd returned to the Arl's estate. "I should've stayed and cut the dirty bitch's throat." This made everyone double-take. Their leader never spoke what everyone considered 'swears', at least not in Common. Hearing her say such was an odd experience, and spoke much of her feelings towards Ser Cauthrein. Sten spoke next. "Pashaara, at least you've learned your lesson. You require more care than a child." Rahel nodded solemnly at the Qunari's stern words, earning snickers from both Zevran and Alistair. After, the matter was set aside entirely.

Two nights later, Rahel was called into the Arl's study. Anora brought news of a situation in the Elven alienage. At the nobles' behest, she would enter the walled-off quarter to investigate the what had the flat-ears restless. With a polite farewell, she left the study, thoughtful. The discussion of city elves brought thoughts of her old clan life to mind. And thoughts of Tamlen. Thoughts she'd left long since buried. But, they no longer burned, like a knife twisted in her ribs. Rather, she felt absolute.

She walked through cold, stone halls until she reached the library. Bookshelves ran from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, packed with well-worn books. Zevran sat in a plush arm chair, flipping through a large volume. Leliana sat on a desk, reading as well, commenting occasionally. When the two rogues finally noticed, and greeted her, Rahel grinned wryly at them. "Had I been an assassin, you'd both be quite dead by now." Their own resident assassin chuckled, and stood from his comfortable position. He stepped over to the other elf, and wrapped his arms loosely around her shoulders. "Good thing you're not one. Too honorable, my dear Dalish elf."

He leaned down, and brushed his lips lightly against her softer ones. Paused, and then pushed a little further. After a long moment, she pushed him away. "As much as I'd love to go on, and give Leliana a show while we're at it," she paused to give the giggling Orlesian a look "I've just sent a maid to fetch our companions." Zevran pouted prettily at that. "But, I was quite content to have my wicked way with you. And Leli would've been quite content to watch, I'm sure…" Rahel snorted, and rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you both would've been quite content to do just that. However, I have something I need to…get off my chest. And with the Landsmeet drawing closer, I fear I won't have quite the opportunity have now."

Alistair walked in, followed by an obviously irritated Sten. "What's wrong? Someone interrupt your beauty sleep?" Zevran asked, quite snarky from the distinct lack of sex. But, when the Qunari growled menacingly, he dropped it, huffing in irritation. After a moment of awkward silence, Morrigan walked in, and then Wynn. Everyone sat around the largest table in the room, with Rahel standing at the head of it. "I've called you in here, because I've been hiding things I wish to share. As a commander, it is my duty to be open, and honest. Something I haven't been. Now, this is not without reason, but nonetheless, I'm going to remedy the situation."

All vestiges of her joking around with Zevran were gone. Her voice was solemn, and firm. More familiar than the playful attitude she so rarely adopted. She was silent for a long moment, as were her companions. And, then she was speaking again. "I never wanted to be a Grey Warden. In fact, the man who recruited me, Duncan, had to invoke the Right of Conscription. I still refused, and he threatened to drag me by my hair, kicking and screaming. What elf in their right mind would willingly leave their loving clan for a life surrounded by dirty shemlen? I would have rather died…

"I was hunting one day. With my clanmate, or my…erm, the Common word for it, valenan, or betrothed, Tamlen. We were hunting a majestic buck that had been sighted nearby. To bring home the horns of such a grand creature would ensure our names be sung by our hahren that night. As we ran through the trees, he heard the clambering about of those who are not familiar to the deep forest. We followed his ears, and it wasn't long until I saw the tell-tale flash of crude human metal. We, of course, did the only possible thing, and drew our bows, circling the fool shemlen. There were three of them, poorly armed, and I could smell fear practically dripping off of them.

"We questioned them. Why were they so far from their far away cities, and Elven slaves? They said they were treasure hunters, and had found a ruin, deep within a cave. They described the location and I…shot him for lying. I'd been through that area many times, and had never seen a cave of any kind. In a panic, one of the other shems pulled out an artifact. Tamlen took it, and recognized the Elven script. Surely the shemlen couldn't be lying at that point…

"We killed the other two, lest they bring a mob to avenge their fallen friend. We had learned the directions to the cave, and we started off into the deeper sections of the forest…"

She trailed off, staring at the table in front of her. When no one brought up furious exclamations of her frank murder, she continued on. "Tamlen was extremely curious. Me, not so much. I wanted to return to the Keeper, and bring her news of the ruins. However, I didn't feel like arguing with my valenan, and we left for the cave, without telling anyone.

"It was a short trek, and when we got there, a burst of cold wind escaped the wide expanse. Finally, Tamlen looked wary, and I was even more so. We'd camped near the area many times in the past, and I was familiar with it as anyone else. But the cave, it was the first I'd seen of it, and that frightened me more than what we could potentially find inside.

"We entered the cave, and the scent of time and decay assaulted my senses. As much as I wanted to turn and flee, I continued on, my senses taut. There were spiders, and as we continued, walking corpses. In fact, the entire ruin was much like the one in the Brecilian Forest that we all visited. As for the structure, it was…human. Yet there were Elven artifacts scattered about. Statues of the Creators, weapons, armor…

"Finally, we reached these huge doors, with a huge metal plate in the fronts. As we approached the doors, and stepped on the plate in the process, vile gas entered the hall, and the corpses we thought forever still rose. After a particularly grueling battle, in which we could not see or breathe, the air cleared, and we entered a chamber. In it, stood a magnificent mirror, untouched by age, and guarded by a huge beast, with hideous spines all over its body.

"At the time, I thought it one of the Forgotten One's demons. I know now it was a corrupted bear, a bereskarn. We killed it, even with our bodies weakened by our previous battles. After a moment to compose ourselves, we looked around the chamber. There were more artifacts than in the rest of the ruins combined, and in the center, that perfect mirror…

She broke of suddenly, as if her throat choked her off. An impossibly long moment passed before Morrigan spoke, exasperated. "I dearly hope that isn't the last of your story, or I will have wasted my precious time." Alistair cast the witch a dirty look, but Rahel sighed wearily. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. Its…difficult dredging up these memories, you understand. Bear with me…" This pause was shorter, and she was speaking again.

"As I said before, the mirror was untouched. No scratches marred its surface, and the dust dare not settle on its frame. It was as pristine as the day it was crafted, I imagine… That was what drew Tamlen in. It's perfection. He approached the mirror, and as he drew close, he saw something in it. Something moving, just beyond his sight. Against my warnings, he touched the mirror. Just the tips of his fingers grazing the surface. Something rushed out, as black as Darkspawn corruption. And then everything went black. The next thing I saw was Duncan's face, apologizing. I wanted to ask him why, but my throat was dry, and I fell unconscious again.

"When I awoke again, another elf greeted me, Fenarel. He was a close friend, of both mine and Tamlen's, and he led me to the Keeper. She explained that I had fallen ill, and it was a close fight for my life. I was to take Merill, her apprentice, to the cave, and we were to try and find any possible sign of Tamlen. And perhaps bring back one of the lost artifacts deep within the cavern. I led Merill down the forest path Tamlen and I had walked, and along the way, we encountered darkspawn. This was the first either of us had seen of the beats, and they were horrific to say the least. But we continued on, as per our Keeper's orders, and it wasn't long until we stood before the gaping hole that opened into those treacherous caverns.

"The entire ruin was infested with the beasts, and we cleared them out, searching frantically for our clanmate. High and low, each and every room. We eventually reached the mirror chamber, and the shemlen, Duncan, stood before the thing, his armor and sword spattered with dark blood. He greeted us politely, and I was…well, rather rude to him. Even so, he was courteous, which caught me quite off-guard, as I didn't have a weapon pointed at him. It was as if he had no temper, at all… Regardless, he promptly destroyed the mirror, in one fell swoop. 'It was dangerous' he said 'corrupted and dangerous to this entire area.' And Tamlen. I asked of Tamlen, where he thought my valenan might be. And he told me Tamlen was dead. And I…I believed him…"

Her voice broke, and ever muscle in her body tensed, as if continuing her story was a very physical effort.

"I believed a fool shemlen over my gut instinct. I returned to camp, like a sheep being led on string, believing that he was dead. My arash l'aven. Gone, never to be seen again. We didn't even have his body to bury…"

Rahel spoke no more, so Wynn did. "Arash l'aven?" her voice was soft, even more so than usual. The Dalish flinched, as if shocked anyone else was there. "Heart's own. Soul mate. I so readily believed that at the time. We were so newly in love… However, I was corrupted by the mirror. The illness my Keeper believed she had cured lingered on. The only way to survive was to undergo the Grey Warden's joining ritual. I would have refused, and I did. I would have allowed the corruption to take hold. But, my Keeper made me promise. For her, for Tamlen. So, I went with Duncan, and I grew to respect him in my sorrow. Then Ostagar, and then Lothering. You all know the rest...

"The night…Tamlen returned. You must understand why it affected me so. I'm guilty. To kill an enemy is one thing, but I killed someone who trusted me above anyone else. It may have been Leliana's arrow, but I killed him. He died by my negligence. By allowing him to enter the ruin, by letting him touch the mirror. And then, listening to a shemlen! Had I only looked harder, only _kept_ looking, I- I-" she cut off finally, voice cracked. No tears fell down her cheeks, and she slowly looked up at the ceiling, neck arching perfectly.

She looked back at her companions, eyes still completely dry. "He would've died anyway."  
Her voice was steadier. "But, my last memory of him is a twisted creature, a corrupted monster. And he suffered, by the creators he suffered. I would not wish that on anyone, or anything…" and she was silent. Her story finished. "I'm sorry for keeping you all in the dark. Or, better yet, for ever letting it happen. As a Grey Warden, it was my duty to put everything in my past behind me. To not let it interfere. I failed at that, and therefore, put myself and all of you at risk."

Morrigan snorted, and stood from her perch. "Do not apologize, Warden. It is your life, keep your secrets. And I highly doubt, in whatever emotional state you're in, it will affect your fighting ability or the decisions you make in battle. Now, if we're finished here?" She turned and left, as silently as she entered. After a silent pause, Sten spoke. "You feel unnecessary guilt. Leave your demons where they lie. His pain was a product of his foolishness, not your irresponsibility."

"Wow," Alistair murmured "I think that's the most I've ever heard you say."

Sten glared at the ex-templar. "It's because I wasn't talking to you. Pashaara, Mahariel. Clean your mind of guilt, or you threaten the well-being of all of Thedas." With that, he quickly left. Alistair shook his head in wonder. "He's kind of an ass, isn't he?" Rahel laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, I'm pretty sure that's him being supportive. Seeing me act like this probably worries him." Leliana huffed lightly. "Then he should be here, comforting you, not storming off somewhere." She gave the elf commander a warm look, earning a steady smile in response. "Thank you, but I feel much better now. The guilt isn't going away anytime soon, but it's a boulder I'll carry as long as I must. And eventually I'll move on…with some help." She gave Zevran a meaningful look.

The Antivan smiled right back, all of his suave playboy mask gone. Rahel looked back at the people still seated at the table, a solemn look on her face. "Thank you for listening, but it's getting late, and I'm afraid I have some coping to attend to." Alistair snorted. "That's one way to put it."

That night, as she lay limp in Zevran's arms, she thought back to situation similar, but curled up into Tamlen's body. It had been days after he gave her the promise ring, and they were made valenan. They had wandered from camp, but not far enough that they couldn't see the fires lit outside the aravels. Under a blanket, on the soft mattress of grass the forest provided, they talked about anything and everything. Children, shemlen, the stars, the creators. Under their threadbare blanket, they talked about the world; as heart's own are want to do.

They had stopped talking, not from lack of things to say, but to absorb the sense of peace they relaxed in. He'd taken to drawn patterns on her shoulders, with the tip of his finger. After a moment, she broke the silence. "Tamlen, what would you do if I died?" This obviously caught him off-guard, as he tensed, and his finger stopped moving over her skin. But then he spoke again. "Sing your praises before I slit my throat so I may join you in the Beyond." He spoke passionately, and Rahel found the statement extremely believable.

Still, she shifted a bit, made uncomfortable by the confident words. "And if you die, what would you have me do?" She rolled over, so they faced each other, noses barely a finger's breadth apart. Tamlen paused a long moment, before reaching up to cup her face.

"I would have you live on, and forget me. I would have you fall in love, and be happy." Neither spoke, but the sounds of insects and night birds encased them and a cocoon of sound. "But why did you bring up such a morbid thought, valenan? What made you think of something that, Creators will, won't be made real for many years yet?" Rahel shrugged, dislodging the blanket a little, and leaving her shoulder bare. "Just wondering. I don't know what I'd do if you were gone…" He chuckled, and pressed a chaste kiss to her chapped lips. "I just told you. You'd move on. Promise me you will…"

In the present, Rahel ran a single finger down Zevran's chest. He chuckled lightly, and grinned down at her. "Ready to go again, then?" She smiled benignly, and shook her head. "Just thinking really, though with you, I'm always ready to go." The Antivan laughed out loud at that, and the husky sound made her gut clench pleasantly. "Well, then, a bit for your thoughts, mi amor?"

"Tamlen made me promise something once…"

Zevran scowled at the mention of her ex-betrothed. "I hope it was not to always remain faithful to him…" Rahel laughed this time, and swiftly maneuvered herself over his lithe body, so she straddled his hips. "No, definitely not. He was not such a heartless person."

"Then please, share, querida," he purred, a hand slowly sliding up to cup her upper thigh. "Well, I promised him I'd fall in love again." Zevran smiled genuinely, his warm eyes lighting up. "I dearly hope you haven't fallen for Alistair. I think I'd be quite jealous." She smirked in return, lowering her torso so it hung just over Zevran's. "Nope. As if I'd ever fall in love with a shem, even an adorably goofy one." The Antivan threw his head back, ever the melodramatic. "Oh, you wound me! If he is adorable, then what am I?" Her face lit up at that. "Shall I draw up a list? Charming, roguish, suave, not to mention, experienced. And loving, and caring, and genuine. Though, I imagine not many would agree with me on the last three."

He laughed his warm laugh at her last statement. "No, I don't imagine many would. But you see, that's the way I'd have it. Only the woman I love may see my true face!" Rahel laughed with him, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "So, I'm the woman you love?" She could practically feel his warm expression. "Are you shocked?" She only smiled, her lips brushing his bronze skin.

A/N:  Hmm…I can't write angst. It's just not physically possible for me to do. I mean, I couldn't just leave my darling Rahel in a loveless relationship, haunted by the memories of Tamlen. I'm not heartless! But this was supposed to be 100% angst. I'm failure. Or, at least, better suited to humor and smut. Or humorous smut. Better yet, gay humorous smut. That's just how I roll.

Anyway, I'm working on some Harry Potter stuff now. I doubt you'll get a lot out of the Dragon Age department for a while. I've played with some ideas, but nothing serious. But, if you like Teddy/James Sirius, or Drarry, then you should be happy.

Ummm…I guess this is the part where I whore myself out for reviews? =]


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